


Time Mischief

by Lytri



Series: Chronicles of a Boy Lost in the Stars [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Obviously), Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humour, I will not turn this into angst or so help me…, M/M, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2019-11-28 07:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18205160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lytri/pseuds/Lytri
Summary: Harry Potter has once again managed to land himself in trouble, this time trouble of an intergalactic kind.





	1. I didn't mean to!

**Author's Note:**

> Another story that I thought would never see the light of day, unearthed from the deep pits of my folders. . .

In hindsight, Harry should have expected something like this to happen. He's never been on particularly good terms with Lady Luck, so it really shouldn't be such a surprise when things turn sour. He supposes a part of him just hoped that the heavens would be smiling upon him for once in his life. Because having to face Voldemort for almost the entirety of his childhood was one thing, but being chased by ugly rhino-men in a drafty hospital gown on _the moon_ of all places definitely took the cake, the candles on it, _and_ the bratty little birthday boy.

Harry’s bad luck all started when he was hit by a car on a rather unremarkable day under rather unremarkable circumstances.

Ever since Harry went through the Veil and ended up in a world very similar to his own (minus the whole Wizarding World and well, you know, the _Wizarding_ part), he's had a fairly mediocre existence (the fact that he's only been in the alternate world for two days is a minor detail). Harry would also have been quite content to continue that mediocre existence if it weren't for the fact that some buggering idiot couldn't read signs and drove right into him.

And, before he knew it, he was carted off to one of those blasted muggle hospitals.

It turned out that only his leg broke, and besides various abrasions and some minor head trauma, Harry received no critical injuries. To him, that meant he had no reason to be in the hospital, but the doctor insisted that he stay longer so his head injury could be monitored a little longer.  

Harry would have protested more - and none too politely tell the doctor to bugger off - but the doctor, like most, had an uncanny ability to guilt trip harder than a parent to their basement-dwelling man-child while simultaneously scaring their patients shitless.

It was safe to say Harry was by no means a happy bunny, especially considering his arse was hanging out of his hospital gown for all the world to see.

As the obnoxiously loud room-clock indicated another hour passed, Harry felt what little patience he had left deteriorate along with his sanity. Letting out a long sigh, Harry stared morosely at his right leg, which was covered in a thick, white cast. He could technically use magic to heal it, especially with the hollows at his disposal, but he really didn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself (it also didn't help he was as good at healing spells as a sozzled monkey trying to drive, and was more likely to mistakenly grow himself a third leg than heal his broken one).

The rain poured harder, obscuring the outside world and worsening his already gloomy mood.

Tapping his index finger on the bed, Harry scanned the room, looking for something to occupy himself with. Occasionally, he would glance at the telly, but then decide that he didn't want to watch whatever boring news story that would inevitably be playing. It was probably the usual murder, kidnapping, and political scandal, no doubt. As time stretched on, however, and the insufferable clock ticked away, the prospect of boring television became quite riveting.

Turning his attention to the telly in front of him once more, Harry sighed and grabbed the remote, only to drop it seconds later due to receiving an electrical shock from it.

The remote slid off the bed and clattered onto the ground.

‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake!’ Harry exclaimed in frustration. Nothing was going his way today.

Sliding himself to the edge of the bed, Harry bent down, one hand gripping the bed and the other reaching out for the fallen remote. Just as his hand curled around the remote again, a tremor went throughout the hospital, causing Harry’s hand to lose its grip on the bed.

His frustration with the world was reaching new heights.

‘Merlin’s saggy—’ Harry started, only for the swear to be cut off by a choked groan as he made impact with the ground, jostling his injured leg.

Sucking in a breath, Harry glanced at his leg, sighing in relief when he realised that he hadn't broken it even more than it already was. Pushing himself up, Harry slowly and carefully pulled himself back up onto the bed so he was laying on his stomach. Rolling over, so his eyes were facing upwards, Harry blinked at the hospital window.

I must have finally gone mad, Harry thought to himself as he blinked owlishly at the sight before him. And really, that was the only reasonable explanation for why he was looking at Earth through the hospital window.

Harry tilted his head back. That, or they added something extra to the morphine, Harry reflected as he looked at the bag of crystalline liquid with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He wouldn't be surprised if the doctor slipped something extra in. Hospitals only hired maniacal, two-faced sadists, after all. Merlin forbid they hire someone pleasant and nice.

Harry pinched himself hard and looked out the window again. Nope, Earth’s still there, he confirmed in his head.

‘Why does this always happen to me?’ Harry said out loud, giving a heavy, kill-me-now sigh.  

He pulled himself into an upright position.

Carefully, Harry put all his weight onto his good leg. Surprisingly, it was very easy, and he even managed to stand all the way up (he would later reflect that that should have tipped him off about something being very wrong). Hobbling his way to the window, he looked down at the rocky surface. ‘Huh. Well then. Never thought I'd be on the moon. Now that I think of it, why haven't I tried that before? That would have been exciting. And maybe I'd even go to other planets—’ he stopped his line of speaking as another tremor, this time much lighter, went through the hospital and nearly knocked him over.

Giant ships - distinctly alien in nature - flew down and parked themselves on the moon’s surface. They acted a bit like imposing, oversized mushrooms. Suddenly, like ants, waves and waves of unidentifiable figures emerged from the space ships.

‘That can't be a good sign,’ Harry commented. He both really did and really didn't want to know why aliens had marooned an entire earth hospital onto the moon.

The itch to explore grew in Harry.

Thinking hard for a moment, he hastily exited the room in an awkward, half hobble half jumping movement and made his way through the hospital.  It wasn't long, however, that Harry ran into one of the ugliest people he’s seen, and that's saying something considering he’s gone face to face with Voldemort.

They were in a black armour-like suit, and had a head akin to a rhinoceros. Except more wrinkly, and a little more squashed inwards. They also looked a bit constipated, now that he thought about it.

What looked to be a doctor approached behind the rhino-man, his face nervous.

‘It's alright! They're just going to shine a light thing in your eye! That's it! No harm done!’ he exclaimed, though it did nothing to calm the people around him as more rhino-men with helmets started to examine people. He himself looked a bit doubtful over what he just said.

‘You know,’ Harry started, having decided to forgo all self-preservation and put his foot in it because hey, why not? He never claimed he was completely sane, and he was immortal anyways - though dying never really was pleasant. ‘I recommend you use some moisturiser. It would do wonders for your complexion.’

The rhino-man looked Harry in the eyes, causing him to laugh nervously. ‘I don't mean to insult you or anything! I was just say—’ Harry was abruptly cut off when a person bumped into him harshly, causing him to lose his balance and flail his arms. It was just his luck that he managed to hit the the rhino-man right in the face

There was a tense moment of silence. The surrounding people stared at Harry and the rhino-man in open-mouthed horror. Harry himself would have liked to display his own terror at the situation in the form of an ear-piercing screech, but alas, he found himself rather speechless in front of the rhino-man.

‘Witness the crime,’ the rhino-man said in a harsh, deep voice. ‘Charge: Physical Assault. Guilty. Sentence: Execution.’ The rhino-man reached for the weapon holstered to his side, a wicked looking thing that was meant for swift and unmerciful executions.

Not wanting to stick around to be on the wrong end of the weapon, Harry pushed past the rhino-man and, ignoring the pain in his injured leg, shakily ran up the stairwell. His staggered ascent echoed loudly.

It was at this point that Harry decided to forgo any efforts to keep his magic a secret. The rhino-man had been the final straw to his already terrible day, and he would rather chance healing magic than stick around any longer.

Barging into one of the rooms and closing the door shut, Harry slid down to the floor and let out a relieved exhale. Tearing his cast off, he assessed his leg. It was a swollen mess of black and blue, and where his tibia and fibula should have been was instead floppy, limp flesh, though it was still gladly intact.

‘Oh, you really should have that looked at,’ a man’s voice commented.

Snapping his head up, Harry looked at the two people in front of him.

The man immediately caught his attention. He was around his thirties and wore a blue suit and brown trench coat. He would be rather ordinary if it weren't for his alarmingly familiar face.

‘. . .Barty Crouch Jr?’ Harry asked in shock.

‘I'm afraid I'm no “Barty”, nor have I ever used that name before. I'm the Doctor,’ replied the man, staring into the jewel-like eyes and feeling a sense of _something_. He couldn’t identify the emotion, but if felt important.

‘The...Doctor?’ Harry asked slowly, squinting his eyes at him.

Now that Harry looked more closely at the man, he noticed the distinct lack of madness in his eyes. And he didn't carry himself in that crazed way Barty did, but rather with an old wariness of the world. Harry could recognise the man’s demeanour quite clearly now, for it was like looking at a reflection of himself. The man was tired and sad and seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

‘Yes, the Doctor,’ he said simply, inspecting the not-quite-a-man but not-quite-a-teen before him. While leaning more towards the smallish side, there was a sort of indescribable power radiating off of the youth. 

‘Well then, Doc, what can you say about my leg?’ Harry had a better chance at healing his leg with no complications if he knew what was actually wrong with it.

‘Oh, no no no, I'm not that kind of Doctor,’ the Doctor said hastily, shaking his head.

‘Then what kind of Doctor are you?’ Harry asked, a bit confused. He had assumed, since he was in a hospital, that the Doctor would be an actual _doctor_. The sheer insanity of muggle hospitals confounded him.

‘You need to rest and not move at all,’ the woman in the lab coat next to the Doctor said before he could answer. ‘What did you do to make your leg like that? And why did you remove your cast? You're just going to make the injury worse.’ She sounded both concerned and frustrated with him.

‘Getting hit by cars, running for my life from ugly rhino-men, you know, the usual,’ Harry said flippantly. ‘And I took it off so I could see the damage for myself.’

‘The usual?’ she asked, the comment having caught her attention.

‘Well, I've never been hit by a car before, nor have I been chased by trigger-happy extraterrestrials, but I've experienced things disturbingly similar,’ Harry confessed, his mind wandering to the good ol’ days of running from deranged psychopaths. ‘Anyway, could you tell me what's wrong with my leg? I just need a general diagnosis.’

The woman gave him an incredulous look, no doubt questioning the state of his sanity, before finally staring at his deformed leg and acquiescing with his request. A string of medical terms started spewing out of her mouth, making his eyes glaze over.

‘Uh, in English? Or Latin. I would understand Latin too.’

She frowned. ‘You have internal bleeding, multiple shattered bones in your leg, most certainly some muscular tearing, and—’

‘—Stop there! I have a good enough idea,’ Harry cut her off, knowing that if she continued she would start using complicated medical terms again. ‘Considering we’re on the moon and all, being harassed by rhino-aliens—’

‘Judoons,’ the Doctor corrected.

Harry gave him a side glance. ‘ _Judoons_ . Since we're being harassed by _Judoons_ , do you think you can pretend you never saw what I'm about to do?’

‘What is it you're about to do?’ the Doctor asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He looked far too excited, in Harry's mind, and bordered slightly onto creepy. I always meet the crazy ones, Harry thought with light glumness.

‘You'll see.’ Harry closed his eyes and concentrated hard. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his head and dropped onto the floor. As the air took on a distinctly energetic quality, his leg started to take on a more fleshy colour, the swelling receded, and finally, after a few more seconds, the bones finally reformed to its original state.

There was just one problem.

The Doctor, on the other hand, jumped to his feet, his face alight with excitement. ‘Beautiful! An alien!’ he presumed. ‘Who would have guessed? And with rapid regenerative abilities as well!

‘Though, you appear to have an extra toe. Or did you always have an extra toe? Does your species have six toes? How many times can you regenerate?’ the Doctor continued on with his rapid fire questions.

The woman, on the other hand, was quite surprised. ‘How did you do that?’ she exclaimed in wonderment.

‘Dammit!’ Harry exclaimed, looking at his extra toe. He completely ignored the Doctor’s and the woman’s questions. ‘I knew something like this would happen. Nothing goes smoothly for me,’ he muttered to himself.

Taking in another breath, concentrating very hard once more, he willed with all his might for the toe to go away.

It did not.

He stared at the extra toe like it was the bane of his existence. ‘Come on, come on,’ he repeated, trying again. In what can only be described as reluctance, the toe finally receded into nothing.

Looking up, immensely satisfied, he meets a pair of curious eyes from the Doctor.

‘Well?’ the Doctor asked.

‘Well . . .?’ Harry trailed off, confused.

‘Is your regeneration ability something your entire species can do?’

‘Ye-yeah,’ Harry said. ‘It's an ability of my race.’ It would be safer if Harry just played along. Besides, wizards and witches could technically be considered an entirely different people from humans. No one really researched too deeply into the difference between muggles and magical people besides the ability to do magic, so they could very well be an alien race. He wasn't _really_ lying.

‘And what is your race called? I've come across many aliens that look like humans before, myself included, but I can't quite place what you are.’ The Doctor furrowed his brows.

Harry’s face contorted in pain, his mind drifting to the Wizarding World; of all the people he left behind and would never see again. ‘No, you wouldn't have met any others of my kind before.’

A look of understanding emerged from the Doctor’s eyes, his former exuberance gone. ‘Ah. I see,’ he said quietly, choosing wisely not to continue on the direction the conversation was going.

An awkward silence descended upon the three in the room.

The woman in the lab coat cleared her throat. ‘I think the hall should be clear by now,’ she said.

The Doctor walked to the door and took a peak out of the small window. Seemingly satisfied, he opened the door and waved his hand in a ‘follow me' gesture and left the room. The woman quickly complied to his nonverbal request.

Harry blinked at where they left, and then shrugged, standing up and wiggling his toes. Even though the sixth toe had only been there for a few moments, its absence was greatly felt. 

Suddenly, the Doctor popped his head back in.

Harry stared at his expectant face and raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes? Did you forget something?’

He nodded his head. ‘Yes. You.’

‘Huh?’ Harry looked at him dumbly.

‘Well, come along now!’ he said.

‘Come along?’ Harry furrowed his brows. ‘Come along for what?’

‘Why for an adventure, of course!’


	2. Follow me to see the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised I made a new chapter so soon, considering my track record. 
> 
> Anyway, this was done in a day, so it might be a bit rough around the edges. I'll come around to edit it at some point in time.

Harry followed the strange Doctor who was not a doctor and the woman in the lab coat as they stole through the halls like thieves in the night. A part of him was warning him against following the odd pair who he didn’t even know the names of (stranger danger and all that), but a bigger part of him simply didn’t care. It had been a long long time since Hagrid had busted down his door and declared him a wizard, but a part of him liked to think he was still that boy at heart, ready to dive headfirst into the unknown without a second thought. 

‘Where exactly are we going?’ That didn’t mean he would blindly follow them, however. 

‘Not a clue!’ the Doctor whispered gleefully, earning a dubious look from both Harry and the woman in the lab coat. 

‘What do you mean you don’t have a clue?’ the woman in the lab coat asked. 

‘Exactly that. I don’t have a clue where we should be going. The computer was a bust; a complete waste of time.’ Despite sounding rather chipper, there was a bit of frustration in his eyes. 

‘Okay, hold on. I’m lost,’ Harry said. ‘Are you looking for something?’

‘A some _ one _ , actually,’ he corrected. ‘Someone who was recently checked in with strange symptoms.’

‘I think I know someone who could help us, actually,’ the woman in the lab coat said. 

The Doctor screeched to a halt, making Miss Jones nearly crash into him and consequently Harry into her. ‘Well, why didn’t you mention that sooner?’

She gave him a dour look. ‘Because you acted like you had a plan in mind.’

‘Right. Right.’ The Doctor avoided eye contact. ‘Well then, lead the way, Miss Jones.’ 

As the woman in the lab coat -  _ Miss Jones  _ he corrected mentally - led them in the opposite direction, Harry resisted the urge to sigh. He was well versed with dysfunctional groups, having been part of one himself, but he didn’t expect to find himself in another one so soon. 

‘This is his office,’ she said when they reached a pale doors.  _ Mr Stoker  _ the nameplate read. 

What they were met with when they entered the room made Harry’s eyes go wide. There were two people in black, leather suits and shiny helmets, an old lady, and a dead body. While normally that would be the beginnings of a rather fascinating story told over cheap whiskey and unhealthy food, that was unfortunately not the case this time. Staring at the old lady drinking from a corpse with a  _ straw  _ of all things (he would never look at kindly old ladies the same way) Harry promptly grabbed the Doctor and Miss Jones, spinning them around. ‘Terrible sorry for disturbing your meal,’ he said, pushing them out of the door. ‘Just carry on and don’t mind us!’

‘Run!’ the Doctor shouted, just as the old lady ordered one of the motorcyclist-wannabes to kill them.

‘Don’t have to tell me twice!’ he said as the door behind them was mowed down. As they scurried and slid down the halls, he was unable to stop the hints of a grin worming its way onto his face as a special kind of thrill hummed in his veins. There was no denying it: these were the moments he lived for. Danger and adventure fed his soul in a way that nothing else could. He was an addict, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘This way this way!’ the Doctor called, pushing them into a room and slamming the door closed. Taking out a weird glowy-thing, he pointed it at the door for a moment and it made an equally weird buzzing sound. 

He rushed to the machine in the room as the door started to groan from being hit constantly, telling them to push the button when he says so. Miss Jones scrambled to figure out which button to press, while Harry prepared himself to use magic just in case. He glanced at the machine the Doctor was fiddling with. It didn’t seem like his magic would be necessary. The Doctor appeared to have a plan in mind, and something inside himself said that the Doctor could be trusted.  

When the door offered its last resistance and broke down, the doctor pointed the machine at the person in all black and told Miss Jones to press the button. When she did so, there was a bright flashing of lights and then the person in all black collapsed face first.

There was silence at first. ‘Well, that was rather anticlimactic,’ he said, earning a sharp look from Miss Jones. He put his hands up in defence. ‘I was just saying.’ And he really did mean it. Considering where he came from, fancy lights killing people wasn’t all too shocking. It was probably as lacklustre as one could get, when wizards are concerned.

‘What did you do?’ she asked. 

‘Oh, I just increased the radiation a few thousand times,’ he said, making Harry just barely resist the urge to roll his eyes. ‘It was only a drone. Don’t worry yourself, I didn’t kill anyone.’

‘Won’t that kill you?’ she asked.

‘No, it’s just a little radiation.’ He started to bounce on his feet, talking about how he just had to isolate the radiation and loudly complaining about how much it itches. 

Harry just stared at him, not blinking one bit, as this strange alien did a weird, hoppity dance in front of him that concluded with him removing his shoes. It was decided. There really was something in the morphine he was given. How else would he explain the completely absurd sight before him? There was no other explanation. 

Absolutely none at all.

The alien that he lost all faith in turned and pulled out his weird device from the machine. He started to lament over his ‘sonic screwdriver,’ acting the part of a petulant child flawlessly, further tarnishing his image in Harry’s eyes. 

Idly glancing around the room, his eyes eventually made their way to himself, or more accurately his current attire. His face instantly soured. He was still wearing the hospital gown. He had forgotten all about it, but now he was keenly aware of how exposed he had been this entire time. Never had he been more aware of his own bum and the distinct chill he could feel on it. Whoever created hospital gowns must have been an exhibitionist, he thought.

His face feeling distinctly warm, he blurted out, ‘Can I have your lab coat?’

‘What?’ Miss Jones asked. 

‘Well, um. . .’ he wrung his hands. He didn’t think there was ever a time he had been more mortified. ‘The hospital gown. . .’ he said in a mouse-like voice. ‘It’s a bit. . .’

The Doctor, who had turned startling quiet, also had a slight flush to his cheeks. His eyes were averted, seemingly fascinated with his discarded shoes.

Her eyes widened in realisation. ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She hastily took off her lab coat and handed it to him.

Putting it on, he cleared his throat, not daring to look anyone in the eyes quite yet.

‘Yes, well, anyway!’ Harry said, pretending like what had just happened wouldn’t scar him for life. ‘What are we going to do about the blood-sucking old lady? Is she a vampire?’ He had never personally met a Vampire who drank blood out of a person with a straw (nor one so old and wrinkly), but he wasn’t one to judge. He knew how kinky the little fuckers could be. They had too much time on their hands for their own good. 

The Doctor laughed. ‘A Vampire? You must have been spending too much time with humans. No no no, she’s a. . .’ he trailed off, his eyes going wide with realisation. ‘That’s it! She can change her internal biology. Fool the Judoon into thinking she’s human. . .’ 

He grabbed both of their arms and pulled them out into the hallway again. ‘We need to hurry!’ And then he took off running. 

As they made their way through the halls once more, they stopped and hid in a corner, watching another one of the drones past by. Abruptly, Harry felt a hand touching his own, startling him. Turning, he looked at the Doctor, who was staring at his hand in contemplation. 

‘You know,’ he began, ‘you have a certain . . . energy about you.’

Harry became instantly wary. ‘Oh?’ he asked, tugging at his hand. The Doctor still didn’t let go. 

‘Yes. It’s always around you, but being in contact with you makes it all the more obvious.’ He continued to stare at his hand. ‘I’ve never felt something like it before.’ It felt soothing to the Doctor, easing the tension in his shoulders that always seemed to be present. 

‘Are you like one of those palm readers now?’ Miss Jones asked. ‘Going to tell us our future or something?’

The Doctor immediately scoffed, still not letting go of his hand. ‘Of course not. You humans and your strange beliefs.’

‘There you go again about “us humans.” I still don’t believe you’re an alien.’

‘Well, what about Harry, then?’ 

‘He instantly healed a badly broken leg in front of us, and also grew a sixth toe.’

‘So just because I didn’t do any fancy tricks in front of you means I’m not an alien?’

Seeing how he genuinely seemed to be a bit offended, Harry patted the Doctor on his shoulder with his free hand. ‘There there, I believe you.’ Subtly, he probed the Doctor with his magic, seeing if aliens felt any different than muggles. Distantly, in the deep recesses of his mind, a chilling, gravelly thing whispered.  _ The poor child of time. So alone; so lost; so sad.  _

‘What are you doing?’ the Doctor asked, disturbing the whispers. His eyebrows were slightly pinched and his grip on his hand slightly tightened. 

Harry immediately retracted his magic, tightly coiling it into himself as much as he could. He gave a slightly guilty look. He didn’t know that he would be able to feel magic inspecting him. ‘Sorry. I was . . . I didn’t think. . .’ As he stumbled over his words, the sense of guilt increased. 

‘That I would feel it.’ He finished, frowning. By all rights he should have felt a sense of unease or anger from the violation, but all he felt was a sense of loss when the energy left him. 

Miss Jones cleared her throat. ‘Sorry to disturb your alien bonding moment, but I think we should go find that blood-drinking lady first.’

‘Right.’ He quickly let go of his hand. ‘Time to go,’ he said, and they resumed their search as if nothing had happened. 

‘If I were a criminal alien trying to escape the Judoon, what would I do?’ he muttered to himself. A few moments passed before he lit up like a lightbulb. ‘Yes, yes, Of course!’

Turning to them, he said, ‘I need you to lead the Judoon to the MRI room. Specifically the one in charge; they’re the one who doesn’t wear a helmet. But wait a few minutes before you do it.’

Unsure of his plan, but still feeling that thing inside him saying that the Doctor could be trusted, Harry nodded.

‘But how?’ Miss Jones asked. 

The Doctor paused, eyes looking at Miss Jones for a moment, before looking away. ‘I’m sure you two will find a way,’ he said evasively, before dashing off.

Harry frowned, wondering what was going through the Doctor’s head. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a wizard, he’d be more worried about their situation. Glancing at Miss Jones, he watched how she was practically twitching with frustration at the Doctor. 

He couldn’t really blame her. 

‘Okay,’ she said to herself. ‘Okay, we can do this.’ She turned her head to look at him. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

He gave her a deadpan look. 

‘What? You’re the alien here. You’ve more experienced with these sort of things, right?’

While it wasn’t true that he was an alien, he couldn’t deny that he was (unfortunately) more experienced with what was going on. If he replaced the Ugly Rhino-men with Aurors and the I-drink-blood-with-a-straw old lady with a Death Eater, then he would practically have the same situation. 

He gave a sigh. ‘Yes, I guess you’re right. Follow me.’ He had no desire to revisit the Judoon who he inadvertently smacked (and gave an eyeful of his arse, thanks to the lovely design of hospital gowns, but he would deny that that ever happened until his dying breath). However, he also didn’t want to let his new acquaintances down. 

Finding the Judoon in question was surprising easy. Getting him to follow them would be much harder, though. However, as he watched the Judoon scanning each person, an idea had blossomed into his head. It was completely mad, probably silly enough that Hermione would have looked at him and asked with all seriousness if he his brain was doing all right, but maybe. . .no, not maybe, he was certain. That cold, scratching thing in the back of his head was reassuring him again. It would work. 

Turning to Miss Jones, he said, ‘I want you to go to that Judoon and tell him that you found the alien they’re looking for.’

‘What?’ she exclaimed. 

He looked into her eyes, internally noting how they were nearly the same height. ‘Trust me,’ he said, knowing full well the impact his rather unique eyes could have. 

She swallowed. ‘Al-alright.’ 

Watching as she approached the Judoon, Harry decided to subtly influence the Judoon with his magic, not wanting to take any chances. Not enough that the Judoon would notice, no, but enough to make sure that she would be listened to. Standing in front of the Judoon, she said with a shaky voice, ‘Hey! I know - I know where the alien is!’ The Judoon turned to her. Scanning her and confirming she was human, they said in a curt tone, ‘Show me.’

She glanced at Harry for a moment, showing her disbelief that the plan worked, before leading the way. 

When they arrived at the MRI, Harry’s eyes instantly rested on the Doctor, who was lying prone on the ground. He could vaguely hear Miss Jones's distraught voice and the confrontation between the Judoon and the old lady alien, but his focus was on the death-like form of the Doctor. He rushed to his side, his magic spilling out to find out what was wrong.  _ He is not dead, _ the chilling voice whispered in his mind.  _ A heart still beats.  _

Normally he would stop to panic over the voice, this being the second time he heard it’s unnerving whispers in his head, but the more pressing matters made him trust it without a thought. What do I do? he asked the voice. There was no response. Tell me, he demanded. There was still no response.

He looked down at the Doctor in frustration. ‘ _ Rennervate, _ ’ he tried, but the spell had no affect. ‘ _ Rennervate! _ ’ he tried again, sending more power into the spell. It was ineffective. 

Distantly, he perceived the Judoon eliminating the old lady and leaving. An alarm sounded, the MRI machine crackling with energy and flashing lights. 

Staring at the Doctor’s chest, Harry thought back to what the voice had said. And that’s when realisation dawned on him. The voice had mentioned that the Doctor still had  _ a  _ heart that beats. Gathering his magic, he allowed it take on the distinct quality of lightning, and sent it straight into the Doctor’s chest. 

Nothing happened at first, but with a few more pulses of electricity the Doctor gasped and and his eyes shot open, seemingly coming back from the dead. When the Doctor sat up, his eyes were glued to Harry. 

He did not blink.

Harry nervously averted his eyes. He had an inkling about why he was being stared at so intently. Last time he had merely brushed his magic around the Doctor, but this time he completely disregarded any boundaries and his magic left nothing untouched. 

‘What are we going to do?’ Miss Jones asked, her voice a bit breathless. The lack of enough oxygen in the air had clearly taken its toll. 

‘We need to stop that machine from sending out a magnetic pulse,’ the Doctor said, popping up onto his feet like he hadn’t been like a dead corpse just moments before. ‘I believe the Judoon will transport the hospital and everyone back to earth, but that’s moot if all of us are dead.’

‘Would frying it work?’ Harry asked. Some days it felt like he just had to breathe near an electronic and it would break, so he was rather certain focusing his magic on the MRI machine would kill it. 

‘How do you mean?’ he asked, turning to look at him. 

‘My . . . the energy you feel around me doesn’t mesh well with electronics. It usually fries them.’

‘And does it make them explode?’

‘No no, not at all! It just makes things malfunction or shut down completely.’ 

He appeared to think for a moment, before nodding his head. Something about the youth made the Doctor want to trust him implicitly.

Receiving the go-ahead, he gathered his magic and hurled it at the machine. The machine instantly died, the flashing lights and noises shutting off. The machine started to smoke, a thin stream of it floating up and into the ceiling. 

Watching as all the lights flickered off as well, shrouding them in darkness, he uttered, ‘Oops. Seems I overdid it a tad bit.’ 

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, the small blue light just barely helping them see. ‘Well, what’s important is that it worked,’ he said. 

Harry turned to look at Miss Jones, who was nearly on the verge of collapsing. Pulling her up and supporting her on his shoulder, he asked, ‘So, what now?’

The Doctor went and supported her other side. ‘Now we hope the Judoon send us back.’

They exited the room and walked to one of the windows. At first all there was still the image of the barren surface of the moon, but all of a sudden they were shrouded in a bright light and the image of rainy London appeared before their eyes. 

Harry stood next to the Doctor, watching as Miss Jones was tended to by paramedics. 

‘So,’ the Doctor started, ‘did you have any destinations in mind before you were whisked away to the hospital?’

‘Not particularly,’ he replied. 

‘I have a spaceship,’ he said nonchalantly. 

Kept his face looking forward, struggling to keep his face straight and not show how much those words interested him. ‘Oh?’ he asked airily. 

‘It’s also a time machine,’ he added, looking at Harry intently, as if waiting for something. 

‘Hmm,’ he hummed, his face still neutral.

The Doctor shuffled his feet, unsure why he was having such a difficult time. He never normally had any trouble inviting new companions. ‘Do you have any interest in travelling?’ 

Harry looked at the Doctor out of the corner of his eye. ‘I just so happen to.’

‘Then . . . would you like to travel with me?’

He pretended to think for a moment, before turning to look at him fully, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘It just so happens that I’m currently on a long holiday.’ 


End file.
